


Fight Club

by astralelegies



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Cage Fights, F/F, Fist Fights, Foe Yay, Mikannie Week 2016, Near Future, Rivalry, Well - Freeform, near-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralelegies/pseuds/astralelegies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a far-off planet in the not-so-far-off future, patrons of a seedy nightclub battle it out for the honor of being named best in the city. On tournament night Mikasa Ackerman prepares for another victory, but when the rival Titan gang arrives, among them the enigmatic and notorious cage fighter Annie Leonhardt, she may finally find the challenge she's been looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Club

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “fight club” of Mikannie Week day 5. (Super creative title, I know.)

The Maria Club was lodged in the basement of an unstable two-story apartment building in the unfashionable section of town. The tenement could only be found through a series of twisting side streets and back alleys, meaning that only a special few were privy to the Club’s exact whereabouts. This was how the owners liked it—away from the prying eyes of the public and the police alike. 

For six days of the week, the Maria Club operated like any other mildly-seedy dive bar. There were drinks and hologames a plenty, all submerged in the perpetual smog of cigars—here you could even find people smoking old Earth cigars, the kind that burned with real fire instead of electricity. The back room was kept locked always, except at opening and closing time, when a group of shadowy figures would enter and leave through a crack in the door. (Sometimes the cautious observer could make out a table, a drawing board, a game of cards before the door shut again.) Occasionally there would be music. But the seventh night, that was when the real entertainment happened. The Seventh Night was fight night. 

Ever since Mikasa had moved from her dusty hometown on a dusty backwater moon to this, a bustling metropolis on one of the biggest planets in the galaxy, she’d been coming to fight night. Eren was the one who had first mentioned it to her—he’d been living here far longer than she had, and was in possession of a rather violent disposition besides. Armin refused to go near the place, except on certain tournament days, and those he mostly spent shaking in the bathroom until around halfway through the evening, when he could be coaxed out for strategy help.

Tonight was a tournament night. Mikasa strode along the pavement, worn down from the foot traffic of pedestrians and not the cars that were no longer bound to transport by land. Behind her, Eren and Armin were arguing about Eren’s odds against the Titans, the rival gang that it had been rumored would show up for weeks now. 

“We don’t even know if they’re coming,” said Armin. 

Eren shook his head. “This is the biggest tournament of the year. They’ll be there.” 

“How can you be sure?”

“I just know.”

“You just _know_.” Armin sighed. “And you’re supposed to be humanity’s last hope.”

“Come on, Armin, help me strategize. I’ve got to win this thing.”

“My money’s on Mikasa. She looks angry enough.”

She turned around. “I wasn’t aware you were betting this year.” 

“I’m not—

“Relax,” said Eren, “she’s teasing you. I think.”

“Are you looking forward to facing off with the Titans, Mikasa?”

She shrugged. “A fight’s a fight. It doesn’t really matter who it’s against.”

“She says that,” Eren murmured in a poor attempt at _sotto voce_ , “but she’s still been at the gym practicing every day for almost a month now.”

Mikasa decided not to punch him or even ask how he’d laid hands on that particular information, which she imagined was probably very generous of her. Instead she quickened her pace slightly, speeding around the next bend and out of the boys’ sight. There it was, at the end of the block. 

The only indication that this building was any different from the others on its street was the queue of people waiting by the back stairs. Mikasa gave a nod to the bouncer as she passed, and Ymir nodded in response. 

“You fighting tonight?”

“To win, if I can.”

She bared her teeth in a grin. “Good luck with that. It’s a nasty crowd in there. You sure you can handle it?”

Mikasa didn’t bother replying; Ymir knew perfectly well what the answer was. 

“You should try entering yourself. Then you might actually get a date with Krista.”

Ymir’s smile vanished. “Jesus, Ackerman, I was only joking.” 

“So was I.” 

She made her way past the crowded bar to the women’s room, already jammed with spectators and participants alike. Sasha caught sight of Mikasa and waved, moving to join her. 

“Did you hear? The Titans showed up after all.”

“No kidding.” 

Mikasa scanned the room for unfamiliar faces, but in the dim lighting that didn’t narrow it down much. Sasha pointed at a girl wrapping her hands in the corner. 

“That’s Annie Leonhardt, one of the Titans’ best fighters. She hasn’t said a word to anyone since she got here.” 

Annie Leonhardt was very short and deceptively slight (albeit well-muscled), but Mikasa knew the dangers of underestimating an opponent based on their size. This girl carried the same don’t-mess-with-me attitude Mikasa had spent years cultivating. She guarded her every move, and surveyed the crowd surreptitiously with narrowed eyes, calculating, carefully analyzing. Those eyes met Mikasa’s own for a brief instant and she gave a shadow of a smirk. Mikasa dropped her gaze. 

She pushed back out into the bar, which had amassed even more people since she’d arrived. In the center of the basement, in place of the dance floor, there was a large metal box. Most cagefighting these days was all virtual or holographic, with defense mechanisms in place to keep participants from getting too rough, but in places like the Maria Club, tucked just outside the view of the law, the ancient tradition continued. Here the cage was like a hybrid—old material, new improvements. If Mikasa looked close enough she could make out the haze of an electric field surrounding the encasement. Once a person was in the ring, they swung for victory or went down trying. 

From behind the counter Krista smiled at her, holding up a drink. Mikasa took it gratefully. 

“This is the most people I’ve seen in here in a long time,” said Krista. “If we’re not careful we’ll have the fire wardens on us. None of these old tenement buildings have been proofed.” 

“What, and haul their asses all the way out to this neighborhood? Not a chance.” Mikasa took a swig of her drink. “Ymir’s on duty tonight.” 

Krista paused over the glass she was wiping. “I noticed.”

“Are you going to talk to her?”

“Maybe.” 

“If I win this fight will you talk to her?”

“…fine.” 

“Good.” Mikasa spotted Eren flapping his arms at her and turned to go. 

“Hey,” said Krista. “Um. Thank you.”

She waved a hand. “Sure.” 

Her two companions were standing right at the front of the masses, with a good view of the cage interior. 

“Mikasa,” said Eren, “the Titans—

“Are here,” she affirmed. “I know.” 

She remembered what Sasha had said in the locker room and scanned the crowd for a sign of Annie Leonhardt. The girl was leaning against the opposite wall, looking right at her. She beckoned Mikasa closer with a solitary finger. Without saying anything to Eren and Armin, she crossed the room. 

“You’re Mikasa Ackerman.” 

“And you’re Annie Leonhardt.” 

“No need for introductions, then.” She tilted her head. “Come outside with me.” 

“Why?”

Annie didn’t answer, just led Mikasa back through the front entrance. Ymir wiggled her eyebrows at them, and they ignored her. Annie took Mikasa’s arm and steered them behind the building, away from any unwanted observers. 

“Alright,” said Mikasa, “you have my attention now.” She folded her arms. “What is it you want?”

“I want to fight you.”

She bit back a smile. “Here or in the ring?”

“Your reputation precedes you,” said Annie. “I want to know if you’re everything you’re cracked up to be.”

Mikasa took a step closer. “I’ve heard talk about you, too. But without proof it’s just that—talk.”

Annie reached up to curl a stray strand of hair around Mikasa’s ear. She leaned in, close enough that Mikasa could feel the heat of her breath on her cheek. 

“Then you’d better make it to the finals so we can find out.”

“You seem pretty confident about your chances.”

“A frail maid like me has to have a hobby.” 

“Frail,” said Mikasa. “Right.”

“And I do love a challenge.”

She raised an eyebrow. “First I’ll have to see if you’re worthy competition.”

“And if I am,” said Annie, moving her hand from Mikasa’s head to her waist, pulling her in, “then maybe we could do it again sometime.”

“That depends,” said Mikasa, “on who wins.” 

“Hey idiots, the fight’s about to start.”

Ymir stood a few paces away, arms crossed, smirking at them, and Mikasa realized how they must look, flushed and sweaty and standing too near. Annie took a step back and spun on her heel, refusing to spare either of them so much as a second glance. 

“Nice one, Ackerman.”

“Ymir, do me a favor and shut up.”

Mikasa made it through the first few rounds of the fight pulling her punches before things started to get interesting. The quarterfinals brought a few opponents with more skill, and the semifinals after that, but she still felt she was missing something, and Annie’s words still echoed in her head. _I do love a challenge_. At long last the combat came down to the wire—the winner of the next round determined who would advance to the final match. 

She stepped into the cage, where Annie was already waiting for her. 

“Now we find out,” she said. 

Annie smiled then, slow and predatory, and Mikasa readied her fists.


End file.
